Birthday Blahs

I'm not feeling very 'birthday bonanza' this year. Mac's 40th was just last weekend, and I had been focusing on that. And Dad's 70th, which was in July, but we never had the big hoo haa as planned. I managed a quick hit-and-run trip to Nashville last weekend to surprise Mac for his fabulous Mac-eoke birthday karaoke extravaganza, then turned around and got back on a plane Sunday afternoon. (Photoset up on Flickr.)


My birthday is Monday, and I didn't give it any thought until Mom asked me about it on the way to the airport. I used to love August, because that's my birthday month. Maybe it's just that I can't believe the summer is over already. I need a vacation. A real one. More than just a day or two. I really loved my two week jaunt across Europe last August, and wish I could spend a week in Glasgow before Labor Day. Jan and Cat have moved into a single flat together. Remo renovated a place nearby. And Remo and Car have bought the corner pub and are renovating that.

Oh to spend a month working on and in a Glaswegian gay-friendly bar. So much more fun than my day job here. It was called the Western. I threatened to come over, redesign it myself, and call it the Southern.

But alas, here I remain.

I have been trying not to do the "another birthday going by personal inventory." I have skimmed the surface of that lake and really don't feel like diving in. I am heavier than I have ever been, and balder, and am still single. I quit my job in 2002 and went to grad school to pursue a dream, but have not gained footing on the road to fulfillment. I was about to erase all debt except for the minor student loans, but now bought a car and am back to paying monthly debt service instead of saving. I do not own a home.

Okay, I need to stop this as it is unfun blogging and is rapidly approaching wallowing self-pity. It could just be that I am in a mood because it has been a long end to a long week.

There are, of course, many upsides. And I just launched iTunes and am feeling merrier already. The random play started up with bluegrass (Rolling in My Sweet Baby's Arms) and as Steve Martin pointed out, it is impossible to be depressed with a banjo.

Shilpa (back from Africa and bless her heart) also cornered me this week about the birthday. I had made zero plans, so she decided to host a night for me this Monday. Mondays are not usually good party nights, but it is the actual birthday. So food and friends it will be at her place on the 28th. We've got a small but deeply loving and immensely entertaining crowd gathering.

She also pressed me as to my "ideal birthday party if you could do anything." I have decided what that is: a weekend in a big house in the Russian River with the crazy friends and lots of eating, drinking, and games. Kevin, Barney, and Shilpa are all for it. I'm thinking maybe 10-12 of us now. Suitable houses abound, and they are actually reasonably priced. Off-season doesn't begin until October 1, and that's when the weather starts to turn. September here is still summer.

Unfortunately, scheduling has become the big obstacle. This weekend was out of the question as we had already planned the super-fun Gay Rodeo Private Shopping Road Trip night for tomorrow. (Last year I unwittingly started a trend of wandering pantless while trying on clothes off the racks. I seem to have a thing about pantless.) So that will be a ball.

The rest of September’s weekends are pretty full. The first weekend is for Kevin’s birthday surprises, the second weekend is the Rodeo and Shawn’s birthday BBQ, the third and last full weekend is the Folsom Street Fair, where Kevin and I hope to podcast (we gave up on the booth idea as it was cost-prohibitive). So that pushed us to October. The first weekend in October is the Castro Street Fair (featuring a great outdoor Sundance Saloon dancing stage), which overlaps with the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival I love. The second weekend in October is the Sundance Stompede, which I can’t miss. I love the weekend full of dancing as much as the cowboy imports (as you can see in the image on this page).

Kevin’s presence at the Russian River weekend is a requirement, but he works three weekends out of the month so this throws a bit of a wrench into the works.

But for all of this scheduling and planning and by all appearances a jam-packed (“I like jam!”) social calendar, it is now Friday night and I have no plans other that to meet up with RMJ and Barney at an undetermined time and place later in the Castro after everyone has finished their first-round of evening obligations.

It’s ten past six and I am waiting for Shilpa to finish up with some work. Then we are getting cocktails and manicures.

Not so bad for a Friday I suppose.

Kevin is getting over the flu and headed to see a 70mm screening of Titanic at the Castro Theater. I don’t think I’ll go because I don’t want to catch whatever it is he had. That, and I’d have to watch Titanic.